


From Caged Beginnings

by radioactive_sharpie



Category: Throne of Glass Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Abuse During Pregnancy, Blood and Violence, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Physical Abuse, Pregnancy, Rowan losing his shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-15 00:22:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29800155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/radioactive_sharpie/pseuds/radioactive_sharpie
Summary: What if... unbeknownst to anyone, Aelin had been pregnant when she was taken by Maeve on the beach, at the end of Empire of Storms?Rowan will tear others and himself apart if it means getting them back.While Aelin has to survive a power-hungry Maeve bent on getting her child.
Relationships: Aelin Ashryver Galathynius | Celaena Sardothien/Rowan Whitethorn
Comments: 15
Kudos: 81





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> To the amazing people in the Rosebud's Realm Discord Server...this one is for you.  
> From thirsty and hilarious conversations and new friends arose confidence I didn't know I had to share my works.  
> Thank you for being supportive and amazing!

I will find you.

_Rowan shifted and soared high on a fast, wicked wind of this own making, the glimmering sea sprawling to his right, the marches a green-and-gray tangle to his left. Chaining the wind to him, swiftly catching up with his companions now flying down the coast, he committed her scent to memory, committed that flicker in the bond to memory._

_That flicker he could have sworn he felt in answer, like the fluttering heart of an ember. Unleashing a cry that set the world trembling, Prince Rowan Whitethorn Galathynius, Consort of the Queen of Terrasen, began the hunt to find his wife._

Empire of Storms, Sarah J. Maas

**Chapter 1**

Rowan had hoped never to set foot on this continent again.

Traveling far and wide lost its luster a bit when you’ve lived for hundreds of years and seen much of the world. But he would brave the darkest pits of the land if he had to. He would give anything, take, kill, do anything to get his wife and his mate back.

However, no matter how far they went, there was nothing.

So they found themselves in the lands surrounding the country of Akkadia. Far from the sprawling mountains and snow-covered caps he craved to soar through once more. No, this land was the complete opposite. The heat stuck to everything, the humidity frayed even his most disciplined nerves.

He didn’t mind their weathered clothes, he had been in worse shape. But he knew his companions were not of the same opinion, noting Elide’s discomfort at her every time she moved in the old witch leathers and tattered cloak.

Rowan watched as Elide and Gavriel shared an apple, and could feel the wave of anger rolling off the fourth member of their travel group. Lorcan stiffened when the Lion bit into the fruit while being watched carefully by Elide’s attentive eye. Rowan prepared himself to intervene should Lorcan decide to forfeit his self-control.

The fact that Lorcan had accompanied them at all still surprised Rowan. Yet, distracted as he may be to matters which didn’t revolve around finding his wife, he had witnessed enough to see that Aelin’s human friend had the most powerful demi-Fae male living, wrapped around her finger.

Thumping and shouting sounded above them. The Fae commander they were hunting was mere meters away. Perhaps this one would finally put them on a path nearer to finding his mate. They had chased every rumor and every clue across both continents at an agonizingly fast pace and had come up empty. He let the worry about dwindling resources drift to the back of his mind as he focused his senses on his target.

The Commander had been inside the pleasure house for over two hours. The sounds of revelry rising as the night progressed. A few moments later the target pranced out with a satisfied grin.

The King-Consort of Terrasen pounced.

And the soldier went down.

The soldier wasted his last few breathes threatening them about Maeve. The Fae Queen could try, but Rowan would make her bleed for a thousand years for what she was, without a doubt, putting Aelin through. He would peel the skin from her entire body and take his time with it.

The gods had been quiet and unforthcoming with guidance much to Rowan’s fury. They were all pawns in their never-ending games and yet they had to trot around the board blind.

The anger pulsed through his blood at the disappointment of another dead end. It had been over a month and a half since his mate had been taken and the pain and smell of her fear was still entombed in his senses.

Rowan had knelt on that spit of beach for half an hour. He’d ignored Aedion next to him as the rage and realization of what Aelin had done thumped through his blood and brain. The gentle scent of cinnamon and orange had been the only thing to break through his wall of fury.

It engulfed and infuriated him. Knowing that something so sweet and pleasing to his senses could exist while his mate was tortured inside an iron cage.

Their time apart had honed that rage into a sharp blade, ready to cut down anyone who stood in their way.

He could imagine what they were doing to her. What Cairn was doing to her.

To smother out her fire.

To break her.

His heart clenched.

I will find you Fireheart. Even if I have to destroy myself. I will you.

The throne was a glistening beacon as she waddled towards it. Yes, waddled. There was no better word she could think of to describe her predicament. Her green silk dress was loose from the waist down and swayed behind her as she stepped up the stairs to the dais. Rowan by her side.

She let out a sigh of relief when she finally sat down on the padded seat of the antler throne. Her protruded abdomen meant that every day was harder and harder to see her toes. A fluttery movement inside her had her hand instantly moving to the spot, a huge grin taking over her face.

“Our child is active today?” her mate asked beside her, he too couldn’t stop the smile that crossed his lips and the way his eyes beamed whenever he looked at her. He was a vision to her, a call finally answered after so many years of pain. Her king filled his throne as if he belonged there all along, muscle and wisdom framed by the long silver hair he had finally grown out in their kingdom of peace.

Their child stirred again, trying to get comfortable in the ever-decreasing space.

“Little devil must think she’s flying on a wyvern today.” Aelin winced.

“She?” he said raising a silver eyebrow.

“Your name suggestions were too stupid so I decided it’s a girl,” she replied, giving him a sly grin. “As if I would name my kid Hawke.”

“Not even in homage to me?”

“Your head is already big enough to fill this castle,” she replied.

Before her mate could reply, their court entered the throne room. The sounds of her loved ones bickering with boisterous laughter echoing into her very soul.

“I grow tired of this Aelin.” the sound of Meave’s voice grated at her energy.

Aelin Ashryver Whitethorn Galathynius came out of her daze feeling heavy in her skin. Her body ached worse than it had at the mines, worse than the months that followed.

Her mind felt like it was trotting through the mud.

She tried to move her hand, as much as she could do these days, but felt only iron. The iron casing they kept her in.

“Tell me what I want to know.” that heartless voice said again.

A chilled mist settled onto her skin. The smell of cinnamon and ripe oranges filtered around her.

Her stomach felt so twisted she thought she was going to vomit.

Not that there was much to vomit. She had refused to eat most of the food they gave her. Preferring starvation over the iron poisoned meals they tried to force on her.

“I will never tell you where the keys are.”

“Then Cairn will continue his fun.” the Fae Queen’s face was beautiful but her eyes were devoid of feeling. Aelin saw only a bottomless void in those violet eyes.

Her bones ached. Was this a dream too? Was the memory of shattered bone breaking through her skin real or an illusion?

Maeve wove her mind through so many dreams that Aelin couldn’t tell what was real anymore. She floated between illusions that felt as light as memory and others where the weight of her body threatened to throw her into a panic.

Whispered words wafted into her iron cage “Swear the blood oath and I will let you go.”

Aelin kept quiet, letting the lies float past her. The scent of cinnamon and oranges hit her again. Like a warm drink in front of a crackling fireplace during a snow storm. Her stomach grumbled with hunger.

“Pertinacious, just like your mother. I will enjoy breaking you Aelin Galathynius. And when I am done I will take everything from you anyway.”

Maeve grinned at her through the slots in the mask, with some secret tucked away behind heartless eyes.

The cold mist stalked into her cage again.

And the darkness beckoned.


	2. Chapter 2

Rowan knew he was dreaming. He could see her, surrounded by darkness and wind. A bottomless chasm separated them, he knew he would never be able to cross it. 

She stood with her back to him, golden hair blowing in the dark wind, longer than he remembered. He longed to fly to her, but he was cemented to the spot. Only her scent made its way to him -jasmine, lemon verbena, and crackling embers. 

There was no sound, even when he tried to call out to her. 

But she turned around anyway. Slowly he took in her face, a face he had not seen in months. It was her, as he imagined she would look like in a few years once she Settled. 

But it was the hand on her rounded belly that made him freeze his attempts at getting to her. 

He fell to his knees.

His mate looked at him as four small figures emerged. The tallest: a girl with golden hair, tanned skin, and pine-green eyes looking as proud as her mother. Beside her stood a boy, nearly her height, smiling at him with bright Ashryver eyes under a cap of silver hair. Next to him was another silver-haired boy with green eyes. Rowan’s heart clenched as he took in the familiar features. And the smallest girl, clinging to her mother’s legs…A fine-boned, silver hair child, barely up to Aelin’s knees. Her eyes the colour of the clear summer sky. 

Their children.

With another so close to being born. 

His family. 

It was the most beautiful he had ever seen. 

In that chasm of darkness and silence, cinnamon and orange filled his senses. 

Their children pressed closer to Aelin, with the exception of the eldest. 

Flames erupted from her body as she walked towards him, such delicate feet stepping into oblivion. She was mouthing something he couldn’t make out. 

The smell of cinnamon and orange bombarded him from all angles.

He struggled against the invisible bonds keeping him in place. He had to get to them. 

That dark wind roared in, taking everything in its path. His daughter looked at him in warning, as her flames flared in shades of gold and blue. 

But in the end, the black wind swallowed her too. 

Rowan jerked awake, his heart beating wildly. 

The dream had plagued him for days. First, when he slept and then every moment he was awake. But it was impossible to think of the possibilities of the future without feeling the burn in his gut from the fear of everything that could stop it. 

He looked around for his companion. Gavriel, ever the gentle male, was looking at him with worry in his tawny eyes and etched on his golden skin. He had thankfully not mentioned anything about the various times Rowan had now awoken in similar circumstances during his watch.

Elide and Lorcan didn’t stir either. The trip to the Akkadian border had taken three days and they had found nothing but scrub and sand. 

“We will find her,” Gavriel murmured reassuringly beside him. 

Rowan didn’t say anything. He could barely utter any words these days, such was the rage inside him. Rage at himself. For failing to find his mate. 

For over two and half months. 

Across dry fields and oceans of sand, heat, and humidity, they had traveled at backbreaking speed. They had begun to steal their food weeks ago, having chosen not to forfeit their horses. 

He wondered if he had made the right choice to come to Akkadia over Doranelle. To go against Elide’s opinion. 

“Don’t dwell on past choices Rowan,” Gavriel said. 

It seemed today was the day Gavriel had chosen to break his silence. 

He’d debated it, going to Doranelle instead of Akkadia, where its ruling family would shelter Maeve if she requested it and provide the armies necessary to hold Rowan back when he came for her.

And now that they had found no traces of Aelin or any of Maeve’s army at all, he had begun to despair. He couldn’t help but feel like they might have wasted precious time, even with the Akkadian capitol still a day away. There would have been some clues already if they were here.

“Get some sleep. I’ll take over.”

It was strange working with Gavriel without the bonds holding them together. To know that he was here by choice helped to thaw the ice that had taken over his heart since Aelin was taken.

Gavriel didn’t object and sighed in relief as he lay on his bedroll. 

Rowan clenched his jaw, his stomach twisted. He still kicked himself for not realizing they were mates. 

Aelin had felt the arrow on his shoulder yet that day on the beach, as she was  whipped , he felt nothing. He knew it was likely Maeve, her powers to mask and alter scents and bonds was a terrifying thing. The power to fool a mate bond. It filled him with dread. Something so unimaginable could not be of this world. He thought he knew Maeve’s power after centuries of serving her. The realization that he didn’t was enough to punch the air out of his lungs whenever he thought about it. 

If she had that sort of ability, what else was she capable of?

Tell Rowan that I’m sorry I lied. But tell him it was all borrowed time anyway. Even before today, I knew it was all just borrowed time, but I still wish we’d had more of it.

The words echoed inside the pit of rage that had settled into his heart. 

He refused to accept it. 

They had said their vows to each other just two days before the beach. They lay together in bed afterward, him still inside her, breathing deeply as they gazed into each other's eyes. Had that been truly the last time he’d held her in his arms? 

Tell him he has to fight. He must save Terrasen, and remember the vows he made to me.

Rowan monitored the stars again. 

They would rule together. He swore it to the stars and himself. 

He would find his wife. 

And Maeve would pay. 

The forest was burning. 

A baby’s cry broke through the roars of the fire. It tore at her instincts and pulled her focus to the bundle on the floor. Amid the burning, ancient trees was a small pile of snow, shifting with tiny movements. 

She tried to move but found she was shackled to a large oak tree. Despite it being barely more than a husk of its old self, with blacked branches and devoid of leaves, she could not free herself from it. 

From the pile of snow, tiny hands broke free. The more the baby moved the more it freed itself of the surrounding cocoon of snow. Aelin noted the golden hair, even from a distance she would recognize those pine-green eyes too, as her tiny lungs screamed through the clearing. 

Aelin screamed too, trying with all her mind to break free. To run to her daughter and save her from this nightmare. 

You did this. You did this. 

The hot air burned her lungs as tears fell down her face. She called for her power but it did not come. She tugged on the chains, begging any god to help her save her daughter.

The Lord of the North ran past her, he too on fire, and disappeared into the burning thicket. 

She continued screaming even as the trees cracked and the world was enveloped in fire and black mist. 


	3. Chapter 3

There was no light in this place. The chill seeped into her bones, seeing nothing but the emptiness she was floating in. No stars, no light, just her and the endless nothing staring back.

A warmth crept up behind her, along with a scent she would never forget for as long as she lived and even once she died. She let the tears fall and welcomed the scent of lotus blossom and nutmeg filling her until all she could think about were the memories of her beloved friend.

“ _It is not your time Elentiya_ ,” said the voice behind her. She wanted to turn back, to look at those rich brown eyes, and beg for forgiveness. Even after so long, Eyllwe was still not free.

But she knows, somehow, that if she turned around there would be no way back to the world of the living.

She let the tears fall.

“ _Fight it_ ,” and a hand pushed against her back.

Through the darkness, Aelin fell.

The cold shackles dug into the scars on her wrists. Her filthy tunic scrapped against her skin with its layers of dust and grime. The cracking of whips and accompanying screams was everywhere. The sting of salt in her wounds was unmistakable.

She jerked awake, panic flooding her lungs and mind.

It had all been a dream. She was still in the mines.

She screamed but there was no one to hear it. The smell of rotting flesh threatened to make her vomit. She’d been left in the cell with two decomposing Eyllwe slaves. The empty sockets of their rotted eyes stared at her in the semi-darkness.

Punishment.

Had she killed another overseer?

Something stirred inside her. A gentle fluttering pulling her attention from the harshness of the environment around her.

Looking down she gaped at the protrusion in her abdomen.

She was pregnant.

Had she been…? Her mind was blank.

No.

No.

She pulled at her chains, iron scrapping against the stone wall of the cell. This could not be real.

But the screams sounded real. Her matted hair felt real. Her large pregnant belly felt real.

She felt another nudge and the scent of cinnamon and orange floated around her. But the black mist wasn’t far behind.

Soon it was engulfing her too.

 _Fight it_ , the voice had said.

She was Aelin Ashryver Galathynius. And she would survive.

The white wolf was watching her again when she woke. Taking deep breaths into her lungs, she pulled at the chains holding her, as healers gripped at her limbs.

It had been a dream. She was not pregnant, she was not back in the mines. But she wasn’t free.

“Good, you made it back,” that deep cruel voice said. Her torturer.

“My Queen, she cannot sustain more of this. It has been four tim-” but the gentle male voice got cut off.

“ _You do not speak_ ,” Maeve was here too.

The burning magic inside her body sang to her, to be used, but she squeezed it down deep into herself. Not yet.

She assessed her situation, iron gauntlets at her wrists, and manacles to her feet. Her mask had not come off since that day on the beach. How many months, years even, had it been?

She tried to jerk away as an impossibly cold hand gripped her left forearm, digging deep into her flesh.

“You die when I allow you to die Aelin.”

She tried to fight back, the motion alerted her to the weight at her center. Every movement dragged the pressure under her skin.

Oh gods.

This was real.

She could smell it even now, the cinnamon and orange. Not food at all. But the scent of her child. A child conceived two days before the beach.

Amid the panic and crippling fear for her child, bloomed a determination she had never felt before. It was steel and sharp and wholly ruthless.

How long had she been here? To be this large, it must have been at least six months. Her head was clear for what she felt like was a long time.

“Leave us,” the Fae Queen ordered to the occupants of the room.

Soon it was only them in that room of horrors. Them and the white wolf. He would be required to witness every single terror imparted on her skin and her mind.

“How I have enjoyed tasting your panic Aelin,” she said slowly as if the Fae Queen was savoring every word, she tightened her grip on Aelin's arm so much she thought it was going to snap.

“Go fuck yourself,” Aelin replied through gritted teeth.

With a half-smile, Maeve said, "Watching your child try to protect you has been infinitely more entertaining. And bothersome.” She couldn’t help the dread that settled into her gut.

“What gift you have brought me. I told you once that any child you have would be powerful beyond what this world has ever seen before. Swear the blood oath or I will rip that babe out of you with my bare hands,” her violet eyes gleamed with fanatical desire.

“I already love this child more than I could ever fear you,” she spat at her through the mask or tried to, her mouth was as dry as the sands of the Red Desert.

“And that is what I count on. I will enjoy breaking you and her,” she grinned down at her.

Aelin stopped struggling. Her. She could see her. The baby from the vision. With the golden spun hair and pine-green eyes that made her long for her mate.

“I will break her before she is even born.”

“ _Why?_ ” Aelin groaned, anger suffocating her.

“We want the same thing. Erawan gone. And we are running out of time to do it.”

And no doubt the freedom to once again be the most powerful player on the board.

“Fae pregnancies are inconveniently long. With the powers your child will have…well I won’t need the keys anymore to send him back. She will have enough power to shake the very fabric of this world.”

She knew the truth in her words, had felt it under skin. She felt the scale tip then. It wasn’t just her life anymore. Her life she could give, but could she give her daughter’s too? The future of her kingdom?

Her power rolled inside. Not yet, it wasn’t enough yet. Not near enough. She felt drained. More than she should.

“Do you feel it Aelin? That exhaustion,” she paused “she fights me even now. And uses your power to do it. But every time you die, she gets a little weaker. And when she is born she will be mine forever.”


	4. Chapter 4

The bodies at her feet were burnt beyond recognition. She looked around the throne room for signs of her mate or their friends, but they were nowhere to be found. No survivors either, all she found was death and the smell of charred flesh. The scorch marks on the floor told her she had been the epicenter. She clutched at her stomach, at an invisible weight she was missing. But all she found was a small bump.

The antler throne was still on fire, and it was the cracking of those ancient animal bones under the heat of the fire that pulled her attention. Her parents were barely recognizable, leaning into the burnout husk of that one majestic throne with forever unseeing eyes. Ash and char had almost covered them but she would recognize them anywhere. Her mother’s long golden hair was splattered with soot as it tangled down her back.

A scream tore out of her. She couldn’t stop the tears either.

It was her fault.

She burned and caused destruction where she went.

_Once upon a time, in a land long since burned to ash, there lived a young princess who loved her kingdom very much…_

The words echoed all around her, but she couldn’t recognize them. Her knees gave out, she had destroyed her kingdom and her family and there was nothing she could do.

Could she stop it?

A breeze of cinnamon and orange suddenly overpowered the smell of death and the black mist pulled her back into oblivion.

She was back in that dark emptiness. The presence behind her made herself known much sooner. She breathed in the smell of lotus blossoms and nutmeg.

“I miss you” she whispered into the nothingness.

“ _We will see each other again_ ,” came the confident reply.

“Perhaps not for a while. I took that from you, you had so much to give the world.”

There was a pause, as if she was contemplating her next words, “ _I will live on in other ways._ ”

Aelin didn’t reply.

“ _Just a little bit longer Elentiya._ ”

“I’m so tired,” Aelin breathed.

“ _I know. You have given much, but your journey is not yet complete,_ ” the voice said.

“I don’t know how much longer I can hold on,” Aelin hugged her middle.

“ _You must. For she is The First. Her story will be known across the three Fae worlds, and her actions will bring peace to many more. The Wings Who Soar Through Worlds._ ”

Aelin had no idea what her friend was talking about, and she didn’t have time to ask before a familiar hand pressed onto her back and she was fell forward into oblivion.

Her injuries were horrific.

His Queen’s mysterious power had added a layer of internal injuries to Cairn’s torture and the Queen of Terrasen had already succumbed to death many times. She now lay immobile in front of him a sixth.

He had never witnessed anything like this. He’d try to stop it. To push the boundary of his oath to the Queen as much as possible, warn her of the consequences, as her magic broke every known law in their universe.

He knew with every fiber of his being that it was wrong. As much as it was impossible. He had never heard of it or witnessed it.

He had researched every known journal and text he could find, for mention of that ability and found none. Nothing in this world was like his Queen.

The cost of even attempting should have been Aelin’s life, and it had been, if not for his Queen forcing her back to the world of the living.

This time it had been Cairn who had gone too far.

“Bring her back,” he ordered.

He looked at his Queen, grinning from her golden velvet chaise. She nodded at him, as the black mist shimmered over the floor towards the slab where the pregnant female lay.

Her screams had echoed in his mind for days. The sight of her exposed muscles and bones left him disgusted, despite having been a healer for over four hundred years.

Each time was becoming harder to pull her back from that final brink. But that black mist from his Queen weaved into their healing magic and the Lightbringer’s eyes shot open.

“ _Rowan_ ,” she rasped out, taking in the breath of life.

Ice filled his insides. They’d never been given any indication of who the sire of the child was. But there was only one Rowan powerful enough to get close to the Queen of Terrasen. Whose child would have enough power to tempt his Queen to break every natural and Fae law there was.

Ice turned to fire as the oath punished him for his thoughts. It took every ounce of his self-control to not look at the other three healers in alarm. Instead, they performed their silent agreement, to pull Aelin into the deepest sleep they could, so that at least she would feel nothing of what was being done to her.

The white wolf, Fenrys, whined from the foot of the chaise. They were unable to save his brother either when his Queen had ordered the Fae male to plunge his dagger into his own chest.

“Quiet,” the Queen ordered. “Have more care Cairn. Patience is key.”

“Yes my Queen,” he replied, bowing deeply. They all saw and smelt the pleasure Cairn’s actions caused his body. It sickened him.

They were dismissed, the air outside a stark contrast to the saturation of terror and pain mixed in with cinnamon and orange from the inside. And as soon as their backs were turned he knew what he had to do.

There was nothing in Akkadia. It had been a complete waste of time and now they were at an impasse of where to go. There were no clues left, no rumors to pursue. They had hit a dead end after only a single day at the Akkadian capital and Rowan could barely contain his rage.

When they had exhausted their last tip Rowan had flown to the outskirts of the city and released a wave of enraged magic so strong that the inhabitants all felt the drop in temperature.

His companions had tried to talk to him but the Prince would gallop ahead of them in silence as they made their way back to the coast.

“Let’s try Doranelle, Anneith would not stir us wrong,” Elide had said, once he returned, giving Rowan a reassuring smile. She showed no bitterness, or judgment, only understanding in her warm onyx eyes. The King Consort of Terrasen only nodded and they left the capitol before anyone noticed the food they had stolen.

They were a day into their return journey, their horses taking them over the low sandy dunes when a falcon cry had them looking upwards. The sun was at its highest point in the sky when the brown and speckled cream bird flew down and shifted into a Fae male a few feet in front of their horses.

Rowan looked worried at the sight of one of his cousins. Terrin Whitethorn was young, barely past his ninetieth birthday, and eager to prove himself to his older brother, Endymion. Today as Terrin looked at him with rage, instead of his usually smiling, pine-green eyes he knew something had happened.

“Enda got a letter from a healer in Doranelle,” Terrin begun “I was dispatched immediately to you. I’ve been wandering around for days but I felt your magic yesterday.”

He felt the impending panic. For Enda to send the letter through Terrin…it could only spell bad news.

Rowan dismounted his horse and approached his cousin, silently reaching out for the document. Terrin flashes the others a look of warning.

Lorcan and Gabriel move immediately, pulling Elide’s horse. The Lady of Perranth gasped in surprise as she was pulled back. Her horse breaking the silence with a whine of protest.

Rowan scanned the letter, confusion, and understanding battling over every word. Even as he picked up on the faint smell of blood, from dried drops in the bottom left corner of the parchment.

_Dear Enda,_

_Serving your family both as a healer and as a friend has been the honor of my life. Do you remember when we were in our youth and we made a promise to help each other always? I’m afraid I have broken my duty to protect my house and need to claim that oath._

_I made a dreadful mistake while trying to formulate a new draught to aid the healing of a young demi-Fae patient suffering from rapidly growing abdominal pain and growth. I accidentally set my estate in Doranelle on fire. Over two hundred of my mother’s beloved trees have perished. Would you be able to collect some seeds from your gardens and send them to me? I hope some of them manage to be born anew from the ashes._

_I find myself grateful that no one perished during the fire. For if they had then this letter would have had more mournful contents. Perhaps even well wishes for Silba to take them quickly and for death to absolve them of the shame for letting such a thing happen to something so cherished in our family._

_Claudius_

Rowan looks at his cousin with confusion.

“Enda asked me to relay three things to you. One, that a report arrived with this letter that Claudius’ estate did burn down due to an explosion in this laboratory. They haven’t been able to find him but there was a lot of blood. Two, his parents were two mated males, vassals of our family, and he never referred to the birth female as a mother and she lived in the city. And third, Enda didn’t know if you remembered but the trees in his estate were-”

“Rowan trees,” the Prince whispered, looking back at the letter. A coded message; a plea for forgiveness and goodbye, as much as the oath allowed before probably killing him. “She’s in Doranelle….she’s- she’s pregnant.”

The realization turned every single one of his instincts and the magic in his veins so cold, it burned like living flames through his blood. One second the sun was heating them from high above, the next the temperature plummeted them into a frost.

“Shit,” Lorcan called out.

Elide gasped, her hand covering her mouth as Lorcan grabbed her off the horse and began running, Gavriel erecting shields around them as he too put distance between them and the King of Terrasen. Terrin shifted and soared upwards, battling against the gale.

Rowan fell to his knees, the letter shaking in his hands as his silver tears soaked little circles into the paper.

It had happened again.

He’d left Lyria by herself, with child and defenseless. And now his mate…his mate was alone, tortured and his child…

There was a strange calmness in rage. When rage took you over and all you could feel was that gaping emptiness everything else left behind.

He roared to the skies, the tears running down his face froze solid.

The chilled vapor of their breaths tickled their face, as great spikes of frozen sand erupted from the ground in a wave of raw magic that they felt in their bones. Gone were the vivid colours of the desert, replaced now by the whites, greys and blues of snow and ice, covering the dunes in frost and their clothes with snowflakes dusting down from the sky.

The ground under their feet became unsteady, their horses spooked by the tremors traveling through the sand.

“Rowan!” Gavriel shouts.

Rowan roars to the sky again and the hawk takes flight towards his mate at last.


	5. Chapter 5

All they saw was the hawk’s tail flying in the distance. Gavriel cursed as Terrin flew back down and shifted back.

“I’m sorry, I knew he was going to lose it. But we can’t wait. There is a ship waiting for you at the coast.”

“We need to follow him,” Elide said.

“The horses won’t be able to keep up,” Lorcan replied.

“Then you have to leave me behind, I will just slow you down. Go get her,” Elide added, determination on her face.

“We go together. Terrin, take the horses to the next city. Join us when you can. Grab your essentials,” Gavriel told his companions, strapping all his spare weapons to his body and their food satchel now firmly secured to his back. The young Whitethorn nodded and took hold of the reins.

“You are going to have to grab on tight Elide,” he added.

In a flash of light, a mountain lion now stood, already bending down to allow better access for the mortal girl to mount on.

Elide gasped as the disbelief settled in her, a Fae shifter allowing anyone to ride him like a common horse. She knew enough about Fae customs now to understand the rarity, and urgency, of the situation.

“Get on,” Lorcan reassured her, although she was sure his instincts battled against every word.

Elide put her arms around the lion’s neck, careful not to grab on too tight in case she hurt him. She felt the magic tingling across her skin as it tethered her onto Gavriel’s back. It was uncomfortable, but she would endure whatever it took if it meant getting to Aelin quicker. Even if it meant traveling at Fae speed.

And so the lion, the demi-Fae, and the Lady of Perranth raced towards the Queen of Terrasen.

Through the night they ran, the hawk never faulting either. A journey that had taken them over a week turned into two days. Running at top speed with breaks only for food and to relieve themselves. Rowan would have to board the boat, not even he could fly across the ocean with no food or rest. He didn’t shift when they got on-board, instead choosing to perch on atop the front-most sail, as if he wanted to be the first to spot land.

The Whitethorn ship, sent from Enda’s fleet, departed as soon as they were on deck. Elide, Gavriel and Lorcan collapsed in their cabins and didn’t emerge until well into the next day.

“I’m worried about him,” Elide said to Gavriel. It was the third day of them on the ship and Rowan remained in hawk form,

“When Rowan lost Lyria, he didn’t shift out of that form for ten years. He was alone and mad. It might not sound reassuring, but he knows we are here for him. That we will fight with him. Last time he didn’t have that, that alone will help him,” Gavriel replied softly.

“Do you-do you think the baby is okay?” Elide whispered. They had made a conscious effort to not even mention the word, fearful for what it might trigger in their king.

Gavriel was quiet for a while as if carefully contemplating his answer knowing his friend was listening even from above, “Maeve knows that any child they have will have tremendous power, she would not harm it.”

Not harm, but use perhaps.

Elide nodded in understanding, ignoring Lorcan’s stare from atop the quarterdeck, she descended into the cool darkness of the deck below.

“Do you know the story of the queen who walked through worlds?”

They were seated on the mossy carpet of an ancient glen, toying with the small white flowers dotted around it. Aelin shook her head.

“It is a sad and old story,” her aunt told her. And so she took her through the tale of a young ancient queen escaping a dark, loveless world and into one filled with life and enjoyment. Aelin’s thoughts drifted between the story and thoughts of her mate. What they had done in heart of the forest, during her birthday celebrations. The mating bite still throbbed on her neck.

The power to travel through worlds, she wondered if she would ever be able to do it. What journeys she and Rowan could go on; together, just the two of them through the cosmos.

“Where did they go,” Aelin asked when she heard about the keys that the three kings had made.

“Where do you think they went?” her aunt asked, gently. She was always so gentle with her.

“I think-”

She blinked. Paused.

Maeve’s smile returned, soft and kind. “Where do you think the keys are, Aelin?”

Aelin opens her mouth but halted again.

Like an invisible chain yanked her back, silencing her.

A chain. She glanced at her wrists, expecting to see them there. Her hand pressed to her stomach, expecting something else there too. The smell of cinnamon and orange enveloped them, which seemed to infuriate her aunt.

“If the world was at risk again, if your future children were at risk, where would you go find the keys?”

She looked at the sitting down in front of her, the picture of serenity.

Another world. There was another world, like a fragmented memory. Where her body was covered with scars, where she and her mate had gone through unspeakable pain but still found each other at the end of it.

“ _No_ ,” Aelin breathed.

“No what?” she demanded.

Blood and sand.

Crashing waves and the sound of a whip.

A fluttering inside her smelling like cinnamon and orange.

“No,” she breathed again.

Maeve let out a soft laugh. Rowan appeared in front of her and didn’t even fight it when her aunt wrapped her hands around his neck and snapped it.

Aelin screamed, clutching her neck and the shredding mating bond, as her magic coursed through her.

Aelin arched off the altar, every part of her felt broken and she screamed with the pain burning at her skin with every movement she took.

“Did you like that?” Maeve asked, smiling from above her.

She wasn’t shackled. She didn’t need to be, because in this vision her arms and legs were a bloodied mess of bone and tissue. The only part of her not sticky with her blood was thankfully the large bump at her middle, despite the black swirling mist that floated around it.

“You wound me by thinking I am still the villain. You do not know what that world was like. What they are like. You and your child could help me stop them.”

She tried to move but the pain was agonizing and paralyzing. She cast her gaze through space. They had repaired her box, she vaguely remembered damaging it, perhaps in another vision? Was this another vision? She had no scars in this reality, it had to be.

“I want a better world, no hunger, no pain. Isn’t that what you fight for?”

Pressure built up inside her, her blood pumped faster and faster through her veins.

“I know you want to tell me. Tell me, Aelin. Where are the keys? I will let you keep your child and even your mate.”

_You do not yield._

The voice was clear beside her.

“It has come to my attention that our mutual enemy has been spotted again on my lands. One of them, a Valg prince, was contained a few day’s journey from here. It brought collars, no doubt to use against my own people. Perhaps even on me.”

Aelin stilled.

“I’m leaving for a few days. You are not due for another week. I will be back before then, to cut that child out of you if I need to.”

_No, no._

Maeve caressed her face, “So I will go myself and retrieve them. I won’t make the mistake of underestimating you again, you are strong and so is she. And if you won’t bend to my will then the collar will do it for you. I’ll even gift one to your daughter too. Save me the trouble of breaking her mind into a thousand pieces. And then the three of us will conquer the world.”

_No. This was not a vision._

“I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before. But then again, if I had we would have missed this valuable lesson,” Maeve mused.

Fenrys growled from the corner, but Maeve didn’t even look at him.

“No one goes against me,” her eyes were so still, so real and full of hate. This was not a vision, this was real. “You do not take what is mine, whether that may be a warrior or a child. Think about my proposal Aelin, I’m sure Cairn will find ways to entertain you in the meantime.”

The Fae warriors knew every path into Doranelle. They were halfway to the city when they felt the wave of magic surging through the land. Like a beacon, just as it had been at Skulls Bay. Surprisingly enough that Rowan shifted back into this Fae form for the first time since Akkadia. He had said little since.

“They must be outside Doranelle, the surge felt close to the city but there is no way Maeve could keep her there without anyone noticing, especially after that surge,” Lorcan commented.

“Even we can’t take on Maeve and her army. We need to separate them.”

“So we separate them,” Elide began, “We spread rumors, something that Maeve will want just as much as Aelin and the baby.”

So they began with rumors, spread by Elide at taverns and markets they purposively entered, places they knew Maeve’s spies would be.

And now they stood, looking down at the city of Doranelle, at its people. The place they had all called home.

Elide gasped in surprise “I thought it would be like Morath or worse, how can someone so vile look after something so beautiful?” She took in the lights, the water basins and the massive waterfall. The glimmer of the city reflected back in her dark eyes. They had filled with absolute fear when they saw through the illusion that Maeve had placed around the city. An illusion hiding the thousands of Fae soldiers surrounding the entirety of the city border.

“That’s most of her forces,” Lorcan added.

Gavriel cursed as he looked down at the hundreds of campfires.

Aelin would be anywhere. Rage threatened to overwhelm him. Not yet, he would not give in yet.

They had been plunging into their power since Akkadia, pulling at every last ounce. All three of them, even Gavriel who was always cool and collected, paced and fidgeted as they plotted their exit plan. Later, forcing themselves to sleep and rest had gone against his every instinct. His mate and unborn child were mere miles away, but he knew he would need his strength. Tomorrow they would descend on that shielded camp, and every single one of them would pay.

Lorcan was late, Rowan noted the next morning. The demi-Fae had gone to scout ahead and had not yet returned. It had taken his centuries of training to contain and stop himself from lunging forward and slaughtering everyone. Only the knowledge that such an action would put his pregnant mate more at risk held him back.

He felt a presence coming up the hill and tightened his hold on his sword, the tension in his body ready for a fight. He relaxed when he saw it was Lorcan, looking surprised.

“What happened?” the former prince asked.

“Something does not feel right. There are no Whitethorn forces here, Rowan,” Lorcan explained.

Rowan only stared down at the camp, for the first time paying attention to the flags of the various houses flapping in the gentle wind, not a single hawk flag flew.

When his cousins had defected they had taken the majority of their fleet, but some of his family had still remained; uncles, aunts and cousins who stayed loyal to the Queen. Had Maeve killed them in retaliation for what Enda, Sellene, Terrin and the others had done?

“We will deal with that later. There is a blessing in that at least, fewer soldiers for us to get through,” the King of Terrasen declared.

Rowan stilled. A force pulled on the mating bond. He cried out, clutching his chest as he breathed through the pain going through his body.

“Rowan!” Gavriel exclaimed, bending down to examine him.

“Something is wrong,” he replied through gritted teeth.

They felt another surge in the distance, in the direction of the eastern camp.

“Aelin is there, she-she is in pain,” he breathed out.

The pain suddenly stopped and he managed to take a deep breath.

“We need to go. Right now,” he commanded. The voice of a king and a mate barely holding back, leaving no room for argument.

They decided that Elide would wait deeper in the forest, with Lorcan at the forest edge.

He had sent a silent prayer to Mala, to protect his mate, to protect his child. He had killed across every known land. Felt the rage and despair wrap around his heart and hold on tightly for so long until he found Aelin. They had both been so broken but every mountain and ocean, every ounce of pain and hurt had led to the two of them. And now their child. What that meant for them, what it meant if he could not get the both of them out safely. The ground under him froze.

Not yet.

They had walked the dark path together back to the light. He would not let the road end here. Especially not now, when a shining new light bursting with the scent of cinnamon and orange awaited him too.

It seemed every hour that passed the space between her rounded middle and the iron of her prison had become smaller. Her skin touched the flat boundary of her cage now, every scrape added a drop to the panic inside her.

She would not be able to protect her child from what was coming.

The irons dug into her skin, chafing the new layers raw once more. Wetness pooled beneath her as time rolled by. She had grown accustomed to having to relieve herself in the box. How many months had she been here?

With Maeve gone her mind was finally clear of the lingering effects of her magic, those dark tendrils that clung to her memories and senses. In the silence of the box, she inspected herself. It must have been at least eight months since she was taken, her bump was far too progressed to be anything less.

Unless this was an illusion too.

_Was she even pregnant?_

Fae pregnancies usually lasted ten months, did she still have two months of this torment left? She thought of her mate. Lamenting how much pain and guilty her actions undoubtedly caused him. But the necessity of them hadn’t changed. Terrasen must have a monarch.

She let the tears fall. The prospect of having a child in such circumstances filled her with despair, but not as much as the thought that it might not have been real at all.

That she and Rowan had not created something beautiful and pure in the middle of so much pain.

A sharp cramp rang through her, unlike anything she had felt before, pulling at that bond with her mate and sending burning agony twisting through her uterus. Orange and cinnamon filled the box as something inside her shifted under her skin and her magic pulsed in her blood. It only lasted for a few seconds but left her breathing deeply. Her breasts ached with every movement of her chest.

Fenrys sat up and growled, ears twitching when Cairn came in through the flap in the tent. Voices drifted in from the outside. A camp then, they were in a Fae camp.

An army lay between her and freedom.

The chains rattled softly with the trembling of her hands.

“Enjoy your rest? I see you soiled yourself again.”

Aelin said nothing. Even as he took her from her cage and took her to the altar. He didn’t even chain her this time, she was so tired she could barely move. Like a newborn fawn on trembling legs.

“We have played with your feet before,” Cairn straight, straightening above her. “Let’s see how you react to the flame without your special gift. Perhaps your child will boil inside you,” his eyes gleamed with excitement.

As soon as the words were out of his mouth something shifted inside her.

This wasn’t just breaking her body, but breaking her. She loved her powers, it had taken her a long time to admit that to herself. To not to fear the heat and fire in her veins. She would not let her child be born into fear of those flames.

Fenrys’ snarl rolled on, endless.

Cairn said mildly, “You can scream all you like if it pleases you. No one can hear you or smell you outside this tent.”

She could imagine it, the table-turning hot, her skin burning and scorching; she would sob in agony.

_You do not yield._

The voice inside her was warm. Like the whisper of the sun over the horizon.

Aelin swallowed. Twice. And then she said, her voice cracking, “When you finish breaking me apart for the day, how does it feel to know you are still nothing? If I die, do you think Maeve will let you live? She is not here to assist the healers to bring me back. You are nothing without me,” she smiled through the mask.

Cairn paused, but grinned after a while “Some fire left in you, it seems. Good. It will only make it more pleasing when I cut that child out of you.”

“The guards talk when you are gone you know. They forget I’m Fae too, that I can hear them. At least they agree with me on one thing. You are spineless. Inadequate in the ways that count.”

“Would you like me to show you just how inadequate I am?” he replied, acid dripping from every word as he punched her side.

Her abdomen exploded in an agony she could not contain, she bowed down and could not stop the cry that came out of her mouth.

And Fenrys stood, growling and snarling teeth snapped at Cairn. Cairn gripped her hair so tightly her eyes watered, dragging her across the floor to the fire pit.

Fenrys barked again, frantic and raging.

He shoved her closer to the flame. Her abdomen was contracting and throbbing. Pain ran through her again, stronger than last time.

Fenrys must have smelt it because he snarled impossibly loud.

Her face was about to be pushed over the fire, but Aelin whirled and smashed her shoulder into his chest. And Cairn went down. She made a run for it, but he recovered quickly and wrapped his hands around her legs.

He was immediately over her, raining blows to her head, her neck, her chest, her stomach. The first hit against her pregnant bump unleashed a wave of rage inside her she never felt before. She bared her fangs to him under the mask, willing the fury inside her to do something.

Somehow it answered. Through the iron and the shackles, a blast of ice and snow burst from her hand and knocked Cairn back. It froze the fire pit over, the air became a chill around them.

The fluttering in her stomach paused.

And the now-familiar scent of her child burst into existence all around them.

She had no time to contemplate what had just happened, she lunged toward the tent flaps.

Although Cairn had been taken by surprise, he recovered quickly, ignoring the newly ice burnt skin on his chest. She had barely made it up from the floor when he gripped at her hair again. And hurled her with all his strength against the altar.

Aelin hit it with a crack that echoed through her body.

A small sound came out of her, as her hand fell to her stomach, one last attempt to protect her child from the kick she knew was coming.

Fenrys pushed forward, the sight of his trembling limbs fighting against his invisible oath-binds was shocking enough to grab her attention.

She watched as Fenrys, her friend and companion in these endless months of darkness, slowly got to his feet.

“Stand down,” Cairn said, stopping mid kick when he heard the ferocious snarl of the white wolf struggling to his feet.

“Lie down. That is an order from your queen.”

Fenrys spasmed, but he stood. Despite Cairn’s continuous commands, the shifter stood.

Aelin watched as blood began running down his nostril. She wanted to cry out for him to stop, that killing himself for her was not worth it. But she knew this sacrifice was for her to escape, the only one she had left to save the life inside her.

Fenrys took a step, his claws digging into the now frozen ground and Cairn’s face paled. Such an unimaginable step.

The white wolf’s eyes slid to hers, an order and plea etched into them.

But Cairn saw it too.

“She is not going anywhere,” and pulled his leg back to resume the kick which would for sure cause irreversible damage to her middle.

With a roar, Fenrys leaped.

And the blood oath broke.


	6. Chapter 6

He could feel her. The bond tugged as he leaped into the camp. Plans abandoned. He slaughtered the first dozen soldiers with his sword, faster than he had ever moved. The rage he had held back, that protective instinct inside him, had clawed at him to be released for months. He unleashed it, his power fully ready to freeze every single Fae in his way. He would tear and rip through anyone that tried to stop him.

He had taken them by surprise, killed them accordingly before they even saw it coming.

Through the camp, he ran, towards that pull and scent of cinnamon and orange he had grown to trust. Birds of prey dove for him, attacking with wind and ice from above. He shattered their magic with merely a thought of his own, sending them scattering.

 _Go King_ , quickly. A voice whispered to him, warm but filling him with urgency nonetheless.

A commotion far to his left alerted him, but he pressed forward. Whatever was happening at the edge of the camp could wait.

Soldiers died standing up, their blood frozen in their veins. Their skin and lips were blue and black as their eyes crystallized in their sockets in an array of purples and sapphires. Streams of water and wine burst out of barrels and became spears of ice embedded in warm bodies. The further he ran into the camp the larger the pools of blood he left behind.

Some ran when they saw him. When they saw the wild ruthlessness in his eyes. The eyes of a Fae male on a rampage to protect his mate and child. Others stayed to face him, he turned their bloodies into frozen splinters this time.

There were shouts outside, of warning and pain alike. The shift in temperature tickled her exposed skin when she ran out of the tent.

A nearby soldier charged at her, she disarmed him. She was still a trained assassin after all, but it caused a sharp cramp down her center. Exhaustion quickly settled into her muscles as she ran, even though it had never left, but it was the sudden unaccustomed shift to her core balance that threatened to down her as she ran through the lines of tents.

The frigid temperature helped, outside was even colder than the one inside of the tent had been, which didn’t make sense to her until she saw him.

Like finally being able to breathe after near-drowning. Her mate. This was real. She was free. This was definitely real, for even she could not dream up the level of efficient brutality his power was landing on their enemies.

Rowan’s eyes found hers through the bursts and floating streams of red snow. She ran, on trembling legs, towards him. Towards those pine-green eyes unleashed.

He’d come for them.

She could barely breathe through the mask’s thin slit but she kept moving, past tents and soldiers who scented her and stopped mid-attack. Many of their faces shocked and sickened.

Orders sounded from a distance but the soldiers didn’t move as she ran past. Those were spared Rowan’s rage.

She had never seen him look so wild and vicious. There was no mercy in his face, his fangs were bared to his enemies, silver hair caked in red snow. Those who chose to attack her froze in their tracks. She stared as she passed; at the bulging of their skin as if their very blood had frozen and burst through their veins.

There were more shouts in the distance and commotion to her right, she looked and couldn’t stop the shock that overtook her, as hundreds of Fae soldiers baring the Whitethorn flag emerged from the tree line and charged through the lines of tents against Maeve’s army. Had Rowan brought an army to save her?

As soon as their trembling fingers touched she felt a surge of power through her. The babe inside her fluttered, seemingly pleased. But pain tore at her abdomen again and she cried out as Rowan enveloped her in his arms. A golden shield surrounded them, a great mountain lion now running beside them.

Soldiers still chased her but a wave of dark power cut them to pieces. Lorcan barked behind them, telling them to move. Rowan picked her up, her arms holding firmly around his neck.

More soldiers spilled out, more of them stopping in their tracks at seeing Rowan and Aelin and the condition she was in, those who didn’t were subsequently met with the black wind that ripped them apart or the Whitethorn soldiers at their back.

They retreated to the tree line, but Aelin called them to stop.

“ _Fenrys_ ,” her broken voice called out.

Lorcan swore.

“ _Fenrys_ ,” she pleaded again, pointing back towards the camp.

The sound of a galloping horse had Rowan tightening his grip on his mate. But he recognized the face atop the animal. His dark skin was smeared with blood, as well as his armor, strong dark brows framed bright golden eyes focused on her.

“You are Lord Kerrington’s son, Enda’s mate,” Rowan declared.

“I’m Warren, Enda told me about the child. I stayed behind to spy, but when we found out what Maeve had done, I informed the rest of the family. Even the most ardent Whitethorn supporters have turned their back on her. Our family, and my father’s family, stands against her now. We were stationed a few miles away, planning an assault to get you out. We can help you get Fenrys, and escort you to safety,” his deep voice explained with urgency.

The entirety of the Whitethorns had defected. For her child, their love and loyalty to family had rendered even their devotion null. A spark of satisfaction at the knowledge of Maeve's forces crumbling and turning against her because of a child, bloomed in her chest. She buried her face, as much as she could with the mask, into Rowan’s neck.

Rowan only nodded and Gavriel and Lorcan leaped backward towards the camp, Warren galloping closely behind.

Elide paced around the mossy glen she was hiding in. Even from miles away she could hear the sounds of the conflict. She prayed to Anneith for the safety of her companions and Aelin and her child. Hours passed and she waited. And waited.

The morning sun was beginning to warm the chilled shade when Rowan ran into the clearing, a trembling Aelin in his arms.

A breath shuddered out of her when she noticed Lorcan and Gavriel were nowhere to be seen. She shook her head, fearing the words that would come out of the princes’ mouth, the words she most dreaded to hear despite her better judgment.

“He went back for Fenrys,” Rowan told her stiffly. He lay Aelin on the ground gently. She didn’t know where to look, a shudder went through her as she surveyed the mask, the shackles, the bruises across her skin. The soiled shift she was in, barely covering the large swollen middle.

“It’s not possible,” she whispered out.

Aelin cried out in pain and circled the swell with her arms.

“Fireheart,” Rowan called out to her softly. “What is wrong?”

But as soon as the words were out of his mouth Aelin calmed. The pain seemingly gone.

“ _Take it off_.”

Her voice was low, gravelly. Exhausted.

Elide didn’t know which one of them she’d ordered, but Rowan was already taking her hands in his.

“ _Take it off. Take it off_.” The queen began trembling.

She clawed at the mask, sobbing.

“Aelin,” Rowan said softly.

Blood ran down her neck from the scratches. Rowan reached out a trembling hand, the only sign of the agony and rage Elide knew was going through him. His hands halted the brutal clawing.

Aelin only sobbed further, “Take it off.”

“I will but you have to be still, Fireheart. Just for a few moments.”

Elide watched the gentleness of his fingers examined the lock, saw the shock and confusion there for a fraction of a second before it was gone. Saw him strain to pull it apart unsuccessfully.

He tried to use his magic to break the iron apart and nothing. Aelin showed Rowan how to unlock the masks and shackles after much frustration. Just as he finished Gavriel and Lorcan burst into the glen, the Lion carrying a bloodied white wolf in his arms. He placed the wolf in front of Aelin just as the mask was coming off.

Her face was pale and wary. Her Ashryver eyes, which Elide remembered so fondly from her childhood, surveyed her before focusing on the white wolf at her feet. The males moved to face her, Gavriel bowing his head and Lorcan just staring.

When Rowan called her, flames burst out blazing and golden, surrounding her. The shift burned away into ashes. What they saw took them all gasping. Even the stoic male next to her.

“It’s not possible,” Elide said again, past Lorcan, who had moved to shield her from the flames.

With the queen now naked in the middle of the glen, they could see the extent of her pregnancy. Her full stomach far more advanced than it should have been.

Her skin was also unmarred and new, it told Elide enough of what she must have been through. Rowan had recalled some of Aelin’s stories during their search, so Elide could know her queen and she was sure as a way to salve his pain too. All the stories ended with some sort of scar on her body.

But they couldn’t do anything as the queen bent down to Fenrys and used one of his claws to cut into her arm. They could only watch as Fenrys took the blood oath and rose to his full height and touched his forehead to Aelin’s. He lowered his snout to nudge at her bump with a slow whine.

Only when the flames dissipated did Rowan move towards his mate. Just in time as another flare of pain took hold of her body and she squeezed his hand for dear life.

“Is she- is she in labor?” Gavriel asked.

“Meave must have done something,” Lorcan whispered, sounding almost afraid at the possibility.

“If she is in labor we need to get her far away from here,” Rowan said, moving to pick her up now that the contraction was over.

“But it’s only been-” Lorcan began.

“It doesn’t matter now. We need to start counting them, and you need to move her very gently,” Elide explained, remembering when one of the kitchen maids had gotten pregnant and they had to help through the birth.

There was a rustle amid the trees and bushes as little bodies, some pale and as black as night, some scaled, emerged from the thicket.

Elide gasped, “The Little Folk.”


	7. Chapter 7

The Little Folk beckoned for them to follow. They had little other option with Aelin in this condition. He hadn’t wanted to believe it when he saw her running towards him. She was near full term. Her scent, mixed in with that orange and cinnamon he now knew belonged to their child, had sent him into a near frenzy as soon as he scented her.

She was so thin, so wary. The sight of her unblemished skin coiled his guts in anger. He would tear them apart. He regretted not having dispatched Cairn slowly and painfully himself, instead, that task had been taken up by Lorcan and Gavriel. The smell of his pain and blood that clung to his companions would need to suffice.

He carried his mate in his arms, wrapped in his cloak with Fenrys at their side. His instincts told him to protect her against any other males but Fenrys was blood sworn now, his brother. He pushed that instinct down deep inside him.

The Little Folk led them into a gargantuan cave, the darkness surrounded them at every angle. Aelin’s flames returned, wrapping the three of them in warmth and illuminating their way the deeper they went.

Of course, it could be a trap and he should be looking for potential threats, anything that could be used as a weapon, but instead, he focused on her, looking for any signs of discomfort in his arms. He mulled over the possibilities of how this could be possible.

She drifted in and out of sleep, waking only when her body stiffened in pain as a contraction passed every twenty minutes, then every fifteen minutes. It pulled at their mating bond, his instincts to protect and defend going into overdrive. He only held her tighter.

She slept in his arms, praying this was not an illusion created by Maeve. She held her mate tighter, it felt real. His scent of pine and snow relaxed her muscles with every intake of breath, especially when her body tightened in pain and the child shifted inside her.

Not an illusion.

He was real.

She mouthed his name.

He had come for them.

Rowan. Her _carranam_. Her husband. Her mate.

She looked up at him, at his beautiful, relentless face.

They must have told him, what had happened on the beach.

Would he be happy? For the child growing inside her?

Her magic rolled through her veins, begging for release.

_Not yet._

Her spine tightened, her limbs tensing, as another contraction coursed through her. More agony than she had ever felt.

“Is he alive?” she asked, her voice dry and hoarse.

“No, Lorcan and Gavriel killed him,” her mate replied, rage flashing through his eyes.

“How long?”

“Three months, three days, and seven hours.”

She let the surprise show on her face. At the confirmation of her suspicions.

“ _Three_ -no. I suspected she was doing something, but this is-is impossible.”

“I’m not entirely sure how it is possible, but I love you and we will get through this. You amaze me every moment of every day Aelin, there is nothing you can’t do,” he replied, pressing her into himself.

She breathed in his scent. An antidote to the tension in her bones.

“Are you-are you happy about her?” she asked tentatively, she didn’t know what she would do if he wasn’t.

“Fireheart, I have dreamed of this moment since I first began to love you. I am just furious that the circumstances did not permit us to enjoy this moment together and you went through all that pain.”

She wiped the silver tear that fell down his face, those pine-green eyes looking at her with all the love she never thought she deserved.

“Her? Are we-are we having a daughter?” Rowan beamed down at her. She only nodded, feeling the trembling arms through the fabric of her cloak.

“She is already incredible. I thought she would have my powers, but I think she channeled ice magic through me when I escaped from…the tent,” she replied softly, leaning her head on his shoulder. She tensed and shuddered, another contraction.

“I feel the fire in her though, like I do with you. She will fly too.” Rowan added, caressing her stomach.

“Can you have both? Both flame and ice?” she asked softly.

“You have both fire and water, I have wind and ice. I have no doubt our child would be equally as skilled,” he smiled down at her. She wanted to bask in the affection in his eyes forever.

They kept walking deeper into the cave.

“I didn’t tell them anything, I didn’t break, even when they threatened to cut her out of me,” she breathed through the pain.

She felt him tense under her, shakes of pure rage coursing through his muscles.

“I knew you wouldn’t,” he managed to say.

“She cast so many illusions, like bad dreams. Sometimes I was pregnant in them, others not. I wasn’t sure if she was real, but they felt so real. I think our daughter tried to get me out of them. To pull me out.”

She ran her hand through his silver hair, “The healers would fix me after each session. I’m pretty sure I died a few times, but they always managed to bring me back using Maeve’s power. I think-I think that dark mist caused the speed up,” she cradled her stomach, “I overhead one of the healers try to stop her once, saying I couldn’t keep going, that my energy was going to give out. Not so subtly implying that her impatience was going to permanently kill me. She must not have liked that, because I stopped seeing him.”

“Claudius, that is how we knew where you were. He got a letter out, I think the oath killed him.” Rowan replied. She could see every frown and ounce of rage inside him on his face, and the way his arms tensed under her at her words.

She listened to her mate explain their plan to lure Maeve away, about the collars and what they had been doing to find her. An attempt at distraction, as the gap in between each contraction, got smaller and smaller.

Even when they got into a boat pulled by eels that took them deeper and deeper into the river running through the cave. Rowan kept talking, his voice the only sound in the semi-darkness of the cave, illuminated only by the blue light hanging on the boat.

“I really want to bath but I feel like I will just sink to the bottom. I feel like I ate an entire cow,” she said at one point. Her first attempt at humor.

Her fingers caressed the smile that appeared on Rowan’s face, “I would catch you and hold you close to me.”

“No, you wouldn’t. You would be too mesmerized by my pregnant beauty to notice me sinking. Look how great my breasts look.”

“You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen,” he smirked, she felt the absolute truth in his words though, even if the tension in his muscles remained.

“You are my mate” she whispered into the skin of his shoulder.

“Yes, and I am completely yours. To whatever end Fireheart.”

His hand covered hers, and they both smiled as they felt a strong kick against their skin.

Her contractions lasted into the next day, Gavriel had self-appointed the job of keeping track. They had barely slept, as her groans of pain became louder and closer together. Rowan had tried to lay her down on the floor of the boat as comfortable as he could, but the swaying wasn’t helping.

Fenrys would nuzzle her with his snout, but not even the caress of the soft fur under her fingers could distract her for the pain.

Twenty-two hours since her contractions started, sweat covered her forehead and she was praying to every god she knew for it to end.

“We’re entering barrow-wight territory,” she heard Rowan say to the others. Through her pain, she sat up slightly. Her mate surveyed her with worry across his face.

“Stop the boat,” she called out, “I need to get out. I can’t do this here,” she said through gritted teeth.

The boat listened and they started to move towards the shore and the shadowy alcoves in the wall.

She heard Elide ask Lorcan what a barrow-wight was, and his reply. It was not ideal, but at this point Aelin would take anything. She could barely stand, so Rowan once more held her in his arms. Her increased weight seemingly inconsequential to his strength.

They had barely reached the entrance to one of the alcoves when Aelin told Rowan to put her down against one of the stone walls.

She was breathing deeply, hair already matted against her head with sweat.

“I can’t hold it anymore,” she cried, “I’ve got to push. I don’t care who does it, just do something,” she commanded, her eyes almost glowed with the intensity of her words.

There was a flash of light and Fenrys shifted back into his Fae form, taking the place left of his queen, taking her hand into both of his. Gavriel had the most healing experience, so they had decided early on that he would deliver the babe with Elide’s help.

Rowan threw out his magic around them, pushing back any wights stupid enough to attack them. Lorcan added some of his own magic and resorted to standing watch.

Aelin gazed towards Rowan as he stood on her right, holding tightly onto her hand. She squeezed them with so much force that they nearly cracked, breathing through the pain. But neither Rowan or Fenrys seemed to care. They all whispered words of encouragement that were lost in the haze of agony.

“You can do this Fireheart, I love you.”

The words were like a soothing draught for her. He repeated himself over and over. He kissed her hair and temple, breathed words of his love onto her skin, as she pushed and screamed through the pain.

She lay there, Gavriel and Elide between her legs guiding her through the breathing. He was bare-chested, his shirt acting as a sheet under her.

“AHHH!” she screamed as the next contraction racked through her, she pushed with the pain with all her might as the large mass that was her child pushed through her tiny canal. She thought she knew pain, but nothing had prepared her for this.

She felt Gavriel and Elide rummaging around inside her, guiding the baby’s head out. Blood coated their forearms and their fronts.

A short reprieve before the next urge to push. She felt Rowan wipe the sweat from her brow and push back her hair. His hands were cold, which felt amazing against the burning across her skin. Her power rolled through her veins, exhilarated and powerful.

Tears ran down her swollen, sweaty face but she didn’t care.

Aelin screamed and screamed.

Screamed into the mountain so deep that no one but ghosts and wights would ever hear her.

With one final scream, deep in that place of death, a tiny wail broke through the darkness, and the heir of fire and wind took her first breath into life.

He had never seen something so small and delicate and beautiful in his life. Pine-green eyes identical to his own gazed through half open lids up at him. Rowan let the silver tears flow freely, soaking into the linen shirt draped over her.

He had not divulged it to his mate, but he had carried fear for whatever magic Maeve had used to speed up the pregnancy would do to their child. If she would be healthy.

But she was _perfect_.

Innocent and safe as she suckled at Aelin’s breast, tightly in her mother’s embrace. Skin against skin. He seared the memory into his soul.

The scent of cinnamon and orange which had guided him and Aelin for months was clear and fresh all around them, overpowering even the thousand-year-old stale musk of the alcove they still occupied.

Elide was cleaning Aelin up with water from the river while Gavriel used his magic to heal her, Rowan adding some of his own as he went. Aelin almost glowed as she admired the little miracle they had created, caressing her tan forehead and tuft of golden hair with her thumb.

“I name you Nehemia Ashryver Whitethorn Galathynius. You, who will be the light of our unified world, I vow that you will always know love.”

Rowan kissed her temple and embraced them both in his arms.

The water should have been cold, but Aelin’s fire had heated the immediate circumference around them so the water flowed lukewarm as it passed. Finally feeling up to it, his mate had begged for a bath. And now here they were; the two of them, with their daughter nestled between them, scrubbing months of grime, dust, and blood from each other’s bodies.

It was more than he seldom allowed himself to dream of. He was well versed in how war went. With Aelin gone he had refused to admit defeat and would fight until his last breath to get his mate back, but that didn’t mean he’d forgotten what that emptiness had felt like. What that rage had done to him.

But now he’d never been happier in his entire life.

The clinking of coins pulled his attention to the boat behind him, where their companions were loading their bundles of jewels and coins from a nearby burrow. It had been Aelin’s idea, they had a war to finance after all.

Nehemia cried softly between them. His blood warmed at the sight of his mate cradling her gently into her chest.

When they were done they climbed back into the boat, eager to get out of the cave. Fenrys shifted back into his wolf form with a flash of light, curling down at Aelin’s feet. She smiled down at him, some silent understanding between them.

She placed Nehemia, wrapped in a clean shirt, into the soft bed of white fur that his brother had created. Tiny, plump hands instantly grabbed onto a tuft of fur and was soon asleep, lulled by the sway of the boat and the warmth under her.

“I don’t know the Fae customs,” she said holding out two gold bands in her hand. She looked up at him expectantly. His mate must have plucked them from the pile Lorcan and Gavriel had carried in because he had not taken his eyes off her long enough for her to sneak away for ring shopping.

The thicker ring held an elegantly cut ruby within the band itself, while the smaller one bore a sparkling rectangular emerald mounted on the top. “But when humans wed, rings are exchanged.”

“I assume the sparkly emerald is for me,” Rowan said with a half smile.

She laughed and took his hand, he tried not to shudder in relief as she slid the ruby ring onto his finger.

Rowan silently grasped her own hand and eased on the emerald ring. His favorite color gracing her finger.

“To whatever end,” he whispered.

Silver lined her eyes. “To whatever end.”

Aelin curled into him, both of them staring at the babe sleeping atop fur, and they resumed their journey into the darkness.

They emerged from the cave a few days later, to the cover of darkness.

Their eel guides pulled them through the rougher waters onto a small sandy beach, disappearing back into the darkness of the cave once their feet were safely planted on the ground. The Little Folk awaited them.

“Thank you for helping us,” Aelin said bowing to them slowly and deeply; clutching Nehemia against her chest. The Folk bowed back.

The front-most line parted, revealing a glittering pearl crown laying in the sand.

A pair of bony grayish hands picked up the crown of silver and pearl and diamond, fashioned into up-swept swan’s wings.

“The Crown of Mab,” Gavriel breathed.

Aelin staggered a step closer to the crown. “It—it fell into the river.”

“Why are they giving it over?” Lorcan asked, leaning towards Gavriel.

“You want to know why?” Gavriel softly asked Lorcan as Aelin stepped closer to the Folk.

“Because she is not only Brannon’s Heir but Mab’s, too.”

Aelin’s fingers closed around the crown. It sparkled like living moonlight. Nehemia must have liked it, because she squealed at the rays of light hitting her skin.

“My sister Mab’s line ran true. That’s what Maeve said on the beach” Elide exclaimed.

Gavriel went on, awe in every word, “And that makes her their queen, too.”

Aelin met Gavriel’s gaze, the crown near-glowing in her hands.

She expected the Little Folk to disappear back into the thicket of the tree line, but they remained surveying them with curious eyes.

The one who’d given her the crown looked intently between her and the babe in her arms.

No one said a word for a long time.

The Little Folk didn’t move. As if they were waiting.

Then it hit her.

Her eyes quickly lined with silver, “ _No_ ,” she croaked out.

“Fireheart?” Rowan asked her, his hand going to the crook of her spine.

She shook her head, looking down at the bundle of joy in her arms and pressing her daughter closer to her.

Understanding dawned on Gavriel’s face, “They want to take Nehemia.”

Aelin felt the rage and protectiveness flare up in her mate immediately, readying him for a fight.

“You are _not_ taking our child,” Rowan adamantly declared, a killing calm settled onto his beautiful face. His eyes showed the frozen power that lay there, ready to be unleashed.

“What are you going to do with a baby during a war?” Lorcan asked. Rowan snarled at him, baring his canines. Lorcan pulled Elide behind himself, despite her protests.

But the question had been spoken and now it rang across her mind.

They had been so wrapped in the joy of being parents that they hadn’t even properly discussed it. What would they do with a baby in the middle of war?

But the Little Folk knew. And yet she couldn’t do it.

Even though the rational, trained side of her brain started to analyze the possibilities.

She let tears flow freely into the sand, her flames begging to be unleashed so that she could wipe the map clean and be safe with her family. Getting them to calm back down had taken her more effort than she cared to admit.

She understood what the Little Folk were truly asking her to do. She had a war to win, or her daughter would not survive. Maeve would hunt her to the ends of the earth. For her power and the power she sensed in her child.

Her knees met sand, her mate coming down with her. Around her, her companions understood too now, judging by the looks on their faces and the silver in their eyes. Even Lorcan.

“We have to leave her Rowan,” she said, her voice breaking, “Maeve will do anything to get her. We can’t bring her with us. The Little Folk will protect her.”

Rowan’s voice broke as he said, “But I just got you back, both of you.” She hated to see the pain in his eyes. That pine-green she loved so full rage and terror. But also understanding as he too analyzed their situation.

Their upcoming battle would demand everything from them. From her. She always thought the precious few months with Rowan had been a gift from the gods for the sacrifice she had to make to finally put Erawan to rest. But with Nehemia now dosing off in her arms she knew this had to be it. This was the gift, for her and for the continuation of her line. A part of her to live on once she was gone, strong enough to keep her mate from voluntarily following her into death. Her flames intensified in her veins.

Four days.

Four days of happiness in exchange for her life.

“We need everyone to win, Rowan. Even leaving one of us behind, or one of our Court will make a difference in battle. A battle we must win for her. For all of them. Maeve will never think of the Little Folk. And should I-should we- the Folk will protect her. Their magic will hide her.”

Rowan’s shoulders trembled as he took in her words.

She bent down to breathe in the cinnamon and orange scent in Nehemia’s golden hair.

“I promise that I will not fail. So you will not have to carry that burden. So that one day you will be able live in a Terrasen full of nothing but peace and love” She vowed into the softness of her tiny forehead. She handed her to Rowan.

His towering frame dwarfed the babe in his arms. She caressed his face as he too breathed in the baby smell that made everything feel possible.

The Little Folk gave them time, Rowan burying his face into Nehemia’s neck and hugging her close to him. No doubt making his own silent vows as his entire body trembled with the effort of containing the rage and agony of their decision.

She had never seen him so distraught. Hoped that she never would again.

The others said their goodbyes too. Elide even allowing herself to lean into Lorcan’s side, wiping the tears that were running down her skin.

With one final kiss to her forehead and shaking hands, she handed her daughter to the Little Folk. It took three of them to hold her, still sleeping wrapped up in one of Rowan’s shirts. Aelin placed Mab’s crown on top of her little body.

“So she knows who she is.” In case they didn’t make it back, the silent words spoken in her mind.

The Little Folk bowed one last time and silently disappeared into the forest.

They stood there for a long time in silence. The King and Queen of Terrasen still kneeling and weeping in the sand, looking into the depths of dense forests that their daughter would now call home.

But on unsteady legs, they eventually rose.

And together, hand in hand walked to Wendlyn, to the boat awaiting them. Headed to a war they now had to absolutely win at whatever cost.

As the boat sailed away from the port, the king and queen looked back one last time towards that tree line.

One last goodbye to the piece of their soul they left behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It always means a lot to me when people enjoy my work, even an angsty one like this one, so I wanted to thank everyone who has read, left kudos and comments!


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